


The Best Actions for the Worst Intentions

by oliviathecf



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Green Lantern (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Implied/Referenced Power Imbalance, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, No Underage Sex, References to Depression, Revenge Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21610735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliviathecf/pseuds/oliviathecf
Summary: He figured that he'll make better choices tomorrow.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Hal Jordan, Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 9
Kudos: 80





	The Best Actions for the Worst Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying something new from here on out, rather than putting out two shorter fics a month, I'm going to be doing one longer one that's more polished. I actually started this fic awhile back, dusted it off and now here it is.
> 
> The tag for referenced underage sex happens because Hal walks in on Dick and Bruce and wonders if Bruce had started having sex with Dick while he was underage. Dick confirms that he was legal before they started though.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Holy shit,” Hal breathed, eyes going wide, “you’re… _cheating_ on me? With...with Nightwing?”

It was almost comical in some way, like every good boyfriend’s worst nightmare. Except he wasn’t exactly a good boyfriend, in fact they were hardly boyfriends at all, and he was definitely awake. Bruce had asked him to stop seeing other people for his own safety or whatever bullshit excuse he had, and now he wasn’t even bothering to pry himself off of his own _son_. He just looked up at Hal, eyes unreadable, gloved fingers skimming over tanned skin.

If he were in some shitty movie, he’d be dropping the red roses he had been bringing in for the man he thought he was going to marry. Except marriage was the last thing on his mind, especially not with Bruce, and he was clutching a box of condoms. The ones Bruce always insisted on wearing, the condoms he was definitely not wearing while balls fucking deep in Nightwing.

And, well, he didn’t exactly drop the condoms.

It was a pretty much perfect throw, arcing perfectly and showering foil-wrapped strips of condoms all over the cave floor as the box hit its mark, right in the middle of Bruce’s stupid, still cowled forehead. It bounced off, the box landing on Nightwing’s bare back.

He didn’t look at Nightwing’s face when he stormed out, and storm out he did because when did he ever have the chance to storm out and feel justified about it? But it made him feel a little sicker, Bruce had raised that kid. Hell, Hal had met him when he was just a wide eyed little thing in some ridiculous little outfit, which made Hal feel a hell of a lot more sick. Just how long had their _thing_ gone on for? It rolled in his stomach in a way that had him nearly gagging, leaning hard against one of the manor’s outside walls. The brick was smooth under his hands and, for a second he wished it hurt, something to distract him from everything all at once.

Hal wondered if Bruce had even stopped or if he kept going the moment Hal left the cave, continuing to fuck the kid he had raised. Taking the person he shouldn’t have, undressing him and fucking him right there on the cave floor, it made Bruce one hell of a hypocrite considering all the times he berated Hal for his mistakes. All the partners he shouldn’t have had, how he had _let_ Sinestro take advantage of him when he was younger, more impressionable.

He couldn’t remember why he had let Bruce fuck him, after all the shit he said to him, the way he treated him like something disposible. Sure, he was good in bed, but he knew lots of people that were good in bed and better to him as well, cutting them out because Bruce had told him to. Maybe he had gotten tired of being alone and saddled himself with something more sure and a hell of a lot less easy.

It was too easy to let his mind wander to how it had started with Nightwing, if it was the same thing, lonely nights and high adrenaline, or if it were far more sinister in a way that was far too familiar to him.

God, he hated this. Everything in his head, his disgust and sadness building into an anger that had him feeling entirely powerless, heated and ready to fight anything. His hands shook with it and, when someone tapped his shoulder, he threw a blind punch instantly.

He had heard the kid was good but, when he dodged the punch nearly effortlessly, it made Hal feel almost angrier before the guilt set in.

“Shit,” Hal hissed, sagging back against the wall, “fuck, Goddamn. Sorry about that, uh...Dick.”

Dick Grayson huffed out a laugh, something soft, and he ran a hand through dark hair. He looked entirely unrattled, dressed down in a form fitting shirt and jeans that looked far more expensive than anything Hal had ever owned in his life. Perks of fucking Bruce Wayne, perks he never got because maybe you had to be raised by him as well to get nice clothes from him.

He was scowling and Dick noticed, raising his hands up as if he was surrendering.

“Hey, it’s okay. I kinda expected you to be pissed at me,” He said, taking in the look on Hal’s face and slowly lowering his hands, “I didn’t know you were dating, B never tells me anything like that.”  
“I’m...I’m not mad at you. Christ, we weren’t--” He cut himself off with a deep breath, “it’s just…I...”

Hal had no clue how to finish that sentence. He felt like he should’ve been the one to apologize, for what Bruce had done to both of them, for not being able to string a sentence together, for being the bad guy in their situation, for everything. 

He hardly knew Dick past the days where he was wearing scaley panties and doing little flip moves, and yet the kid, the man, was offering him a soft little smile. He looked young in a way that had Hal feeling absolutely ancient, and Hal had to look away from him.

“It’s okay,” He said, answering the apology he hadn’t said, “why don’t we go and grab a drink? I know I could use one.”

Dick had him fly them to some bar in Gotham, a place caught between trendy and trashy in a way that was entirely trendy, idealized and glossy. An artificial sort of filthy that had people staring at the pair of them as they walked in, had Hal feeling ancient in a way that younger people had him feeling those days.

Hal tucked himself down in his jacket, ignoring the stares behind the wool of his collar, while Dick beamed brightly at the crowd. Hal realized instantly that they weren’t looking at him at all, that they were in Gotham and were far more preoccupied by the prettier thing at his side. Perhaps they knew who he was, Bruce Wayne’s oldest ward, a kid who had spent most of his life in the limelight. 

It made Hal feel better about himself, and he stood up straight, uncaring about what people thought like he usually would. It was hard to not feel self conscious about what had happened, finding Bruce fucking someone prettier and younger than him, it made him feel washed up. Like he was yesterday’s toy, something temporary.

A hand on his bicep drew him out of his thoughts, and he looked down into Dick’s pretty, sympathetic face.

Hal followed Dick through the throng of people to the bar, all shiny dark wood and polished barstools. Briefly, Hal wondered how much they had spent on the aesthetic of the working class, and if they knew they ruined it entirely with the bare Edison bulbs hanging down from wires. It lit the place up in an orange that just made everything shiny seem shinier, like they were trying to mimic a dimly lit place but failing in a way that made everything seem artificial. Like they should’ve just gilded the place to go along with the fourteen dollar cocktails.

But Dick seemed to like the place, sitting at the bar and greeting the bartender by a name he missed while deep in his own misery. She was cute enough, he supposed, and a nasty voice in Hal’s head wondered if Dick fucked her too. 

Still, he shot her a grin when she took his order, rum and coke, and shrugged when she asked what kind of rum he wanted. She looked like a kid too, younger than Dick, and he knew that Guy would’ve scrutinized her ID as hard as possible if she walked into Warrior’s. But none of the people in that place would walk into a joint like Warrior’s, they wouldn’t even go into the area of town that the original bar was located at and they would never get anywhere near the one on Oa. 

But neither would Dick, and neither would Bruce. Maybe he was looking in the wrong place for some form of validation, for someone to relate to. Whatever he had been looking for, Bruce certainly wasn’t it and he had made that abundantly clear.

Hal watched the bartender as she peered through her glasses at the lime wedges in front of her, like she was trying to pick a nice one to place in his glass, and he realized that Dick was looking at him. Their eyes met in the middle and he couldn’t place the look on Dick’s face, something unreadable. He thought it might be a mixture of anger and sadness, an ugly thing left once the mask came off.

It reminded Hal of himself in a way and he could see himself fighting Dick that night, could see himself being the one to throw the first punch just to have a leg up on the kid.

But, God, was he really ready to throw fists over Bruce Wayne? Someone who had apparently both fucked them and fucked them over. The thought drained it out of him and he studied Dick’s face instead, eyes sliding down from his eyes to his pouty mouth. He knew the kid could probably kill him, but the little pissy look on his face just reminded him of when Kyle would have to force himself to get mad when he was the White Lantern.

The look on his face fell quickly, replaced by something a little more apologetic.

“Sorry, I’m just,” Dick took a deep breath, “trying really hard to not blame you.”  
“I’m having trouble with the same thing. He tell you that you were the only one too?”

The bartender came back with their drinks, interrupting Dick’s answer as she passed over Hal’s rum and coke, and Dick’s…

Well, Hal didn’t really know what he was drinking. The bartender brought over a tall, frosted glass with some sort of pink slushie concoction in it. Hal hadn’t heard a blender but, when he looked closer, he saw a slushie machine filled with white and pink mixtures blended inside. It added to the strange atmosphere, and it was another thing he couldn’t see behind the bar at Warrior’s.

Dick had caught him staring, shooting him a grin and bringing the straw up to his mouth, sucking down a sip of the thick drink in front of him.

“Strawberry daiquiri.” He said, answering the unspoken question once he finished his mouthful.

Hal didn’t quite know what to do with that information, he knew that men could drink whatever they wanted and it didn’t make them girly or whatever, but there was a difference between knowing something and actually seeing it practice. Hell, he knew people who would argue that his own choice of drink was too girly, that he should be slamming shots and drinking straight whiskey or a beer. 

There was something about the umbrella in Dick’s drink that made him feel like he had something to prove. He had walked in on his fucked up sort-of _boyfriend_ fucking the kid he had raised, and Hal was threatened by the fact that his drink was pink and frozen.

Maybe coming to the bar with Dick was a mistake, maybe he should’ve thrown that punch. Maybe it would’ve felt a hell of a lot better than the cool glass under his hand, warm skin under his knuckles, the spray of blood as he broke the kid’s pretty little nose. 

But that wouldn’t have changed the fact that it wasn’t Dick’s fault, and it certainly wasn’t his own fault either. Hal didn’t know why he was trying to point the finger at anyone but Bruce, that Dick was on the exact same side of all that bullshit, had probably been on it for a hell of a lot longer than he had.

Under the flickering yellow light of the Edison bulbs, he looked at Dick again and saw someone entirely different. He remembered just who Dick was, who he was to Bruce. Remembered that kid, hiding behind Batman’s cloak during the early league meetings when everything was a little softer around the edges, back when everything was a little less fucked up. He was around the same age as Roy, it would be as if Ollie and Roy…

“How long?” Hal asked, voice rough like he had swallowed gravel.

And Dick knew exactly what he meant, giving him a twisted little smile.

“Wondering if I was still a kid, huh?”

Hearing Dick acknowledge it had his stomach lurching, grip tightening on his glass. Dick let the question hang in the air, sipping at his drink.

“No. I was an adult. It was long after I had left.” Dick said after his stretched out silence.  
“Does that make it any better?”

He hated how he sounded, concern and something akin to disgust wrapped up in the words that he wished he had chosen more carefully. To Dick’s credit, he didn’t immediately get up and leave or punch Hal, but he hadn’t exactly looked pleased with what he had said.

“Hal, I don’t need you to try and moralize the choices I’ve made just because you’re jealous.” Dick said, and Hal wondered where he got his ability to be uncomfortably honest from.

It certainly wasn’t Bruce, who never said what he meant. But Dick was looking at him in a way that had him bringing his glass to his lips and downing half of it in one go. He could feel Dick’s eyes on him, sliding down to his throat where his Adam’s apple bobbed with each gulp he took.

“I’m just having trouble wrapping my head around this. Hell, I’m having trouble with the idea that I’m even jealous, I,” Hal murmured, unsure of how to say what he meant to a guy who was raised by the man he was talking about, “I don’t even like him as a person.”

If Dick was upset by that, he didn’t let on to it, nodding into his pink drink instead. Maybe there was a part of him that was also sickened by Bruce Wayne.

“He wasn’t like this before,” Dick started after awhile of drinking in silence, “it started after...after she left him. I think he was lonely and he wanted a rebound, and he knew that I was into him. So he went after the easy choice.”  
“I think that’s why he went after me too.”

It made sense with the timeline, Catwoman left and he was picking up the pieces like he had never experienced heartbreak before. Like it was the first time he experienced loss, and everyone else just had to deal with his little breakdown.

“I think I was always into him.” Dick murmured into his drink after a while, looking away from Hal.  
“I don’t think I was ever into him.”

The ice clinked in his drink as he raised it to his lips, finishing the last of it all at once. He set it back down on the bar and moved to get up, to leave it at that and find something better to do with his time. Preferably in a town that didn’t reek of garbage and guano, of all Bruce Wayne’s worst nights rolled into one. Gotham always made him feel a mixture of pity and disgust, rolling in the pit of his stomach like a sort of illness.

A hand on his arm stopped him, digging into the fabric of his jacket. He looked over into Dick’s face, could see something like desperation written on his handsome features. Time slowed to an aching, itching crawl, a flash of white teeth and a flick of a pink tongue. Hal followed the movement with his eyes, looking at his face without looking into his eyes.

“We could...get out of here. Together, I have a place near here, we could get some revenge.” Dick murmured, leaning closer to breathe his strawberry-and-rum influenced words into Hal’s ear, grin spreading as he felt him shudder.

It was...tempting, to say the least. Dick was attractive, anyone with eyes could see it. Those lean muscles, pretty tan skin and flirtatious smile. And Hal had come to Bruce for a reason, he could feel a twinge of interest, heat in the pit of his stomach. It would be easy to let Dick take him home, let him fuck him, to fulfill the need he had felt for the longest time when he was up in space without being allowed to fuck anyone else.

But maybe he was done letting Bruce Wayne have any hold on his life, maybe he didn’t want to fuck around just to get back at him. He didn’t want to get drawn any further in and this was probably the cleanest exit he was ever going to get. His one way ticket out of the disaster that was being involved with Batman, a chance to gain some fucking self respect for once in his life.

He could pay for his overpriced drink and walk out of all of their lives, leaving Gotham to its bats and its bad decisions. Leave the cold and dark for somewhere colder and darker, yet warmer and brighter at the same time, find someone new to fuck around with, someone who might offer him something a bit more than just a fuck.

“Nah. I think I’m good,” Hal said after a moment, turning and looking at Dick, “I think I’m done letting him have any influences over what I do.”

It was the right thing to say and he could see that Dick was a bit taken aback by it, surprise written clear over his handsome features.

“Huh. I...I didn’t expect you to say that, I have to admit. But I like that, I wish I could say the same thing.” 

Hal nodded, turning away from that sad smile.

“Wanna do it anyway? Just for us?”

And, for all his willpower, his resolve in the face of someone pretty wasn’t exactly the strongest. He knew that he could say no and find some other way to get off, someone he knew or some stranger, Hal knew that he definitely wasn’t the ugliest guy in a room. But Dick was looking at him like he was some hot new toy, and Hal was just tired. Tired of being used by someone like Bruce, yet way too tired to try for something that wasn’t a sure thing.

He was tired of his own hand and the memories of someone who treated him like shit. So why not go for the next worst thing? At least Dick actually smiled at him, leveling a grin over his empty glass.

So Hal tilted the rest of his drink into his mouth, mostly melted ice mixing with the dregs of it. He set it down on the bar with a thunk, and swallowed thickly, ready to make a mistake with the taste of rum on his tongue.

“Fuck it, why not?”

Dick wasn’t lying when he said his place was close by, it was just a few blocks away. They didn’t even need to fly there, and Hal wondered if he had planned it like that. If Dick saw him, standing in the doorway to the cave with the condoms clenched in his hand and made his plans right then and there, or if he had asked Hal out to just talk and made a spur of the moment decision.

He didn’t like Dick, he didn’t even know him. Maybe he did, but that was a long time ago, back when he was the kid hiding behind Batman’s cape. He didn’t know the kid, the _man_ , who was leading him towards a place where they could fuck with a hand that hadn’t left his arm since they were still at the bar.

Either way, he certainly wasn’t a kid anymore when he pressed Hal against the door of his apartment and craned his neck up to bring Hal into a kiss.

For all of Hal’s numerous faults in a relationship, one of the greatest one was his dislike of kissing. It was something he’d do for a girlfriend, but it wasn’t something he exactly enjoyed. Dick was good at it too, lips sliding together, just the right amount of pressure and tongue, but the groan he gave Dick was forced.

Bruce didn’t kiss him but that wasn’t because he knew Hal didn’t like it, rather it was because kissing would make it too real. It would give Hal the wrong idea, but Hal already had the wrong idea given to him. He thought Bruce _liked_ him, and he felt like the greatest idiot in the world for it.

So he kissed Dick back, hand coming up to cup his jaw and tilt him up a bit higher. Dick seemed to like that, pushing Hal harder against the door and grazing their tongues together. It would’ve been something that would’ve had Hal moaning if he liked kissing, so he forced out another muffled sound.

The kid tasted like strawberries and sugar, sickly sweet in a way that his brows furrowing, had him breaking the kiss to trail his lips down his neck because it was better than the press of lips against lips. Lips belonging to someone who he wasn’t even sure he _liked_ as a person, never mind liked enough to make out with. Of course, he didn’t have to like everyone he slept with, but the act of kissing felt so deeply intimate in ways that made his skin crawl.

He had thought that he didn’t know Dick at all, and that much was true. But there was also the unpretty truth, that he didn’t even want to get to know the kid at all. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have even come here, maybe he should’ve stuck to his guns and left when Dick came onto him at the bar. Taken the high road, the road that didn’t include sex as a form of revenge. But Hal knew that he wasn’t the type to make decisions based on a stable future, that he would always throw it all away for a chance to get laid. Hal sniffed out trouble like a damn dog, and he hated himself for it, but Dick was worming a hand down his pants and he figured that it was too late to be able to stop himself from wanting it.

Instead, he groaned at the gentle touch, pushed his hips up into him eagerly. His rapidly hardening cock caught against Dick’s knuckles, and he sighed softly, the barest ghost of a breath over kiss-bruised lips.

He was too old for that sort of aimless petting, Dick clearly wasn’t fumbling, but Hal already wanted more than some kissing and half-assed hand jobs. They could’ve done that in the fucking bar bathroom, in a place where there wasn’t a bed, on a day where Hal hadn’t gone to Bruce Wayne for a fuck. It highlighted their age difference in a way that made him feel a little icky, Dick seemed content to take all the time in the world while Hal wanted to get to the end goal as soon as they possible could.

Dick tilted his head up for another kiss and Hal figured that he probably couldn’t get out of it, pressing his flat lined mouth to Dick’s lips, trying to act like he was actually enjoying the action of kissing him. Dick seemed to buy it, humming softly into the kiss in a way that Hal would’ve found cute if he was just some stranger he had picked up in a bar.

They moved from their spot against the door into the stylish, minimalist bedroom. It was nicer than anything Hal had ever lived in, no cracks in the plaster walls, furniture that wasn’t from Ikea, and it wasn’t even Dick’s regular apartment. He lived in Bludhaven after all, it was just a safe house that he used while in Gotham. He had mentioned sharing it with the other members of the family, and the way he referred to them as family made Hal feel a little sicker.

Hal undressed in full, draping his jacket over the back of the desk chair and tossing the rest of his clothes elsewhere. If Dick seemed a little put off by that, he didn’t show it for too long, undressing himself just as quickly until they were both naked.

His hands were warm on Hal’s skin, gripping his hips and pulling him back in for another damn kiss, it seemed to be his move to kiss his partners. But Hal was a little tired of playing along with

Dick was someone else’s dream, his fucking adopted father’s dream, all that tan skin and bright eyes, killer smile and perfect hair. It felt nice to have that body pressed up against him, nice in an abstract way. He was almost too pretty to look at directly. 

Which was why Hal found himself bending over the bed and eying up the gray sheets instead of Dick’s too attractive face, instead of having to face the truth that they were both careening towards something that could only be a big mistake. The actions they were taking, bending over and spreading his legs so Dick could slide lube-slicked, cold fingers up his balls to circle at his hole, all for the worst of intentions.

But those fingers were sliding into him, just the right amount of burning to go with the immediate pleasure of having someone pay attention to him, and he couldn’t bring himself to overthink it any longer. He just needed...well, dick. 

Dick prepped him in a way that felt like he had practiced it, almost like he was giving Hal a prostate exam. But then he curled his fingers in just the right way, and Hal muffled a groan into the sheets, and he wondered where the kid had learned to do something like that. It certainly wasn’t Bruce, maybe it was some of his friends? 

Well, Hal wasn’t there to think about Dick Grayson’s unprofessional relations with the other heroes, he wasn’t one to talk. Rather, he was there to get fucked until he couldn’t think about it being such a bad idea. 

It was clear that Dick was growing increasingly impatient as well, fingers losing their rhythm as he chose to just stretch Hal open enough where neither of them would get hurt. Less about giving pleasure and more about chasing after his own arousal, the hard line against Hal’s ass, and that was definitely something he learned from Bruce.

The only warning Hal was given was the feeling of fingers pulling out of him, a momentary emptiness replaced quickly by the feeling of a cock spreading him wide open.

He huffed out a breath from his nose and tried to relax, he wasn’t nearly prepared enough for Dick’s cock, it was bigger than he expected it to be. But Bruce’s was bigger and he had taken that with even less prep, just a pass of lube, up against a locker in the Watchtower before he could even register what was happening. 

It did feel good though, the burning stretch, pain mingling with pleasure in all the right ways. It felt good like the late night before the long hangover, or a burning hot shower when you’re sick. He had been blocked up for a long time, chasing that temporary relief. The root of the problem, pushed away in favor of that pretty, poison flower. It was something he had been doing from the moment he realized that he just didn’t feel right, and it wasn’t exactly something he wanted to realize while he was cold sweating into Dick Grayson’s sheets.

So, instead, he focused on breathing in through his nose and rationalizing the fact that it felt good and that was all he was after, the temporary relief he always sought out. Because it was a hell of a lot easier than being honest with himself.

And it did feel good, because of course it felt good. Hal pushed his hips back to meet each thrust, the motion practiced like everything else in his life. He tried out a moan and found that Dick liked the sound, so he pushed out another one and drew himself up onto all fours. He had better leverage like that, able to hold onto the sheets and thrust back.

“You feel so good.” Dick panted in his ear, voice ragged and low.

The words sent a quick flash of heat to his stomach, and he moaned in earnest for the first time that night, letting himself fall back into that traditional role. It was easier to just enjoy it after all, to stop overthinking it and let himself feel good for once in his life. 

It was hard to ignore the big, caped and cowled reason they were fucking of course. But fuck that guy, Hal was over feeling like shit because of him, he was ready to feel like shit for all of his other reasons. He didn’t need the added reason of Bruce Wayne, of _Batman_. So, once he left his son’s bed, he could put the entire city of Gotham behind his shimmering, green ass and focus on his old problems.

He reached down and curled a hand around his cock, tingling pleasure turning into a full burn as Dick pumped into him from behind. Hal could tell that Dick was close, losing his rhythm, moans turning breathier and higher pitched, so he stroked himself faster, trying to reach some sense of relief before Dick finished.

He got there just in time, groaning lowly as he came, spurting hot cum to go along with his sweat and...well, tears, dirtying the sheets beyond repair. Dick came moments after, pulling out and shooting onto the bed next to him, moaning his name in a way that sounded practiced.

“Fuck, Hal. That was so good.” Dick murmured, stroking his thigh in a way that felt almost loving.

Dick laid down onto the bed next to him, looking at Hal like he was expecting the typical motions. An uncomfortable, sweaty cuddle, maybe an awkward breakfast in the morning. He looked shocked when Hal stood up, swiped a hand over his face, and started to gather his clothes up.

“Uh,” He started, voice cracking, “you...you’re welcome to stay?”  
“Nah, I think I’m just gonna head home.”

Dick’s satisfied smile fell away, and Hal realized that he wasn’t the only one that was just going through the motions like he had rehearsed them in a mirror. Hal was breaking out of his lines, going off book, and Dick had no clue how to react. Instead, he just watched as Hal dressed himself in silence, only speaking when he was heading for the door.

“Wait.”

Hal turned to look at him and realized how young he really looked with all the bravado stripped away, all the Nightwing shoved messily under the bed, dark hair a cloud around his boyish face. It made Hal feel guilty in a way, and he leaned against the door. He didn’t know what to say, tilting his head in Dick’s direction instead, waiting for him to speak.

“Um. If...if you ever want to talk about some stuff, I-I...you can always call me. Y’know, about Bruce or...y’know. Other stuff.” 

Hal offered him a smile, a genuine one in return for Dick being the most honest he had ever seen him be. 

“Thanks, Dick. Maybe I will.”

And then he was off, slinging his jacket over his shoulder and remembering that he never bothered to ask for Dick’s number, realizing that he probably wouldn’t have called him anyway. 

Because, when he said he wouldn’t return to Bruce or Gotham, he really, really meant it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me at these various places online, feel free to hit me up about this fic or some of my other ones!
> 
> [ Fic Blog. ](https://fanfictionolivia.tumblr.com/)  
> [ Twitter. ](https://twitter.com/fficolivia)


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